


The First Time

by WincestOTP



Series: Tell Me We'll Never Get Used To It [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Flashback, Fourth of July 1996, M/M, Underage - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WincestOTP/pseuds/WincestOTP
Summary: It's been two years since Sam kissed his brother and set their lives on a new path. Now he's ready for something more.





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is a flashback set in the same verse as Tell Me We'll Never Get Used to It. It takes place on July 4th, 1996, two years after the first time Sam kissed Dean.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10796874/chapters/23950158

The fireworks are beautiful, lighting up the sky and casting a glow over Dean’s face that Sam finds it hard to look away from. He’s happy--just him and Dean, no hunt, no school, no Dad. Sam couldn’t ask for a better fourth of July. 

They light the last rocket together and watch it soar away into the sky. It explodes into a dazzling shower of sparks, bright blues and greens twinkling and glowing against the night sky. Sam hugs Dean as the last sparks fade away, face pressed against Dean’s chest as he wonders if Dean can feel how fast his heart is beating. This is it, the moment he’s been waiting for, that he’s _begged_ for, but now that they are here Sam isn’t sure if he’s excited or terrified. 

Dean must sense his worry, because he ruffles Sam’s hair and tips Sam’s head back to meet his eyes. “It’s okay to be scared, Sam,” he whispers. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Sam looks up at him through his bangs, studying Dean’s face. He knows Dean means it, that he would lie with him on the blanket they’d brought and just watch the stars with Sam for the rest of the night if that’s what Sam wanted. But it’s not. Sam wants Dean, wants to belong to him in a way that he’ll never belong to anyone else. Wants Dean to be his, too--even though he knows Dean would say he already is. 

Dean smiles down at him, one hand rubbing gentle circles on Sam’s back, the other warm and firm on the back of his neck. “I want _you_ ,” Sam whispers, and feels Dean shiver just a little. Sam can feel that his brother is already half hard, his cock pressing against Sam’s ribs, and Sam squeezes him tighter, just to hear Dean’s sharp inhale above him. It feeds his own arousal, sends his heart racing in anticipation. 

“Tease,” Dean mutters fondly, then suddenly Sam finds himself hoisted into the air. He yelps in surprise, wrapping his legs tightly around Dean’s waist and burying his face in Dean’s neck. Dean smells like smoke and gunpowder, familiar and reassuring, and the last of Sam’s nerves fades away. Sam clings to him, laughing, as Dean carries him back to the blanket he’d laid out earlier.

Dean doesn’t put Sam down when they reach the blanket, just drops gracefully to his knees and kisses him, pushing into Sam’s mouth and exploring every familiar inch. He sucks gently on Sam’s tongue and lower lip, inviting him in, and it seems to go on forever until Sam is dizzy with want. Finally Dean eases Sam back onto the blanket. He yanks off Sam’s shoes and socks, tossing them over near their duffle bag, and Sam gets the idea and pulls his shirt off. Dean pushes him back onto the rough material and leans over him for another kiss before stripping away Sam’s jeans and briefs with agonizing slowness. 

“You too,” Sam says, blushing a little even though they’ve been doing this for years, and Dean smiles down at him. He pulls his shirt over his head, amulet thumping back onto his chest, then kicks off his shoes before lying down next to Sam and rubbing his hand over Sam’s skinny chest. 

“So little,” Dean whispers, hand moving lower, nearly covering Sam’s entire tummy. He nips at Sam’s jaw and lets the tips of his fingers follow the faint trace of hair down, down, down.

“Dean…” Sam whimpers, hips jerking as he clutches at Dean’s arm. “Dean, please.” Dean closes his mouth over Sam’s nipple and sucks, drawing the tiny bud up hard and tight, pleasure like a livewire straight to Sam’s dick. Dean loves to tease and normally Sam wants whatever Dean is willing to give him. But that’s not the plan for tonight. Dean _promised_ , and Sam is going to hold him to it. 

“Dean, come on.” He pushes at Dean’s shoulder, and Dean pulls back instantly, concern on his face and in his eyes. Sam wipes it away by tackling him, pushing Dean flat onto his back and settling himself over Dean’s hips. 

“This is what I want tonight,” Sam says, breath catching as he pushes his hips into Dean’s and leans down to steal a quick kiss. His fingers make quick work of Dean’s button and zipper, shoving the denim down as Dean helpfully lifts his hips. Dean’s smirk dissolves into a groan when Sam rocks down against him, drag and burn of skin on skin almost more than either of them can take. 

“Pushy,” Dean teases, breathless. “But you know we gotta go slow, Sammy.” He slides his hands up Sam’s thighs to hold him in place as he sits up and kisses Sam gently. “Not gonna do anything to hurt you.”

Sam shifts, wrapping his legs around Dean and spreading himself wide. He doesn’t say anything, just guides Dean’s hand to where he’s already open and slick. 

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean groans, two fingers sinking right into the tight warmth of Sam’s body. Sam shudders, arms tightening around Dean’s neck as Dean kisses him roughly. “Did you do this for me? Open yourself up, get yourself ready to take me?” 

“Just for you,” Sam whispers against Dean’s lips. “Didn’t want you to--I wanted--” Dean presses deeper, strokes hard over that sweet spot inside Sam, and all Sam’s words dissolve into breathless pleas. He shivers, caught between Dean’s fingers inside him and the rough friction of his cock against Dean’s belly. “P--please, Dean,” he gasps, but Dean doesn’t let up. 

“Tell me, Sammy,” Dean demands, hot and rough against his ear. He pushes a third finger past the tight ring of muscle, spreads Sam wide as he fucks him with his fingers. “Gotta tell me you what you want, what you need.” 

Sam clenches around him with a moan, can’t help rocking down onto Dean’s fingers before he forces himself to focus on what Dean’s saying. 

“I want--I want _you_ ,” he manages. “Want to be yours, always.” He kisses Dean as he pushes him back down onto the blanket, trying to tell him with actions how much this means to him. Dean goes willingly, his fingers sliding free of Sam’s body and leaving him open and aching with how much he wants Dean inside him again. Sam fumbles for the bottle of lube still lying on the blanket where Dean had tossed it earlier, smirking at Sam as he blushed. Dean doesn’t try to help, but his hands are restless, stroking Sam’s thighs and hips, squeezing and kneading the muscles there like he can’t help himself. 

Sam bites his lip as he flips the top on the bottle and pours out a puddle of clear liquid with a shaking hand, then smiles innocently down at his brother as he reaches behind himself and lets the cold liquid drip down over Dean’s cock. Dean bucks underneath him and swears.

“Goddammit Sam, that’s _cold_ ,” Dean complains, hands clenching involuntarily on Sam’s hips. Sam just smirks, enjoying Dean’s groans when Sam strokes him from root to top, spreading the slick thoroughly. 

“Gonna be warm soon,” Sam says, blushing again, and Dean’s cock jumps in his hand as Sam holds him steady. Sam’s eyes never leave Dean’s face as he sinks down, mouth dropping open as the flared head slowly splits him open. It burns, not wider than Dean’s fingers but different, hotter and wetter, forcing him open. Dean is panting underneath him, visibly fighting the urge to move, to push, and Sam has never loved him more for his patience. 

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean says through gritted teeth, fingers locked tight to Sam’s hips. Sam slides down another inch, thighs burning with the strain. “So fucking tight.”

“Feels good,” Sam pants, hands flexing on Dean’s chest for balance. He pushes down a little further and now it’s really starting to ache, moving past where his fingers could reach, but it feels good, too. Sam breathes through it, willing his body to relax and let Dean in. Dean’s face is taut with need and concern underneath him, heart tripping wildly under Sam’s hands, but he stays still, giving Sam the control and trust he needs. 

Sam feels his body relaxing, giving way beneath the steady pressure. The head of Dean’s cock skates past that perfect spot inside him as Sam eases down and Sam moans at the sudden shock of pleasure. He takes the rest of Dean inside himself with one long push, fingers clenching as he gasps for air he can’t quite get. He feels like there’s no room left inside him, too full of mercilessly sweet pleasure for things like air and words. 

Dean licks his lips underneath Sam, leaves them spit shined and wet, and Sam wishes he could kiss him again, suck on Dean’s plush lips until they’re pink and swollen the way he has in the past. Instead Sam arches his back and lifts himself up, tight muscles clinging to Dean like the can’t bear to let him go. Dean makes a strangled noise beneath Sam, his control pushed past the breaking point. His fingers dig into Sam’s hips, holding Sam still as he thrusts up into him with an almost pained groan.

“God, Sammy--so good for me,” Dean pants, unable to stop the slow rock of his hips, grinding up against Sam like he could somehow get deeper if he tried hard enough. Sam flushes at the praise, warmth shooting through him. He spreads his knees wider, struggling for balance as his hands lock onto Dean’s shoulders, urging him on. He’s so close already, his whole body trembling, every nerve alight with pleasure that still isn’t quite enough.

“Dean,” he begs, voice cracking at the end. “Dean, please, I need--just touch me--”

Dean reaches up to brush Sam’s sweaty hair back with a shaky hand. 

“Shh,” Dean soothes, stroking Sam's cheek gently. “Just let me get us there, little brother.” Sam nods without hesitation, trusting Dean to take care of him the same way he has every day of Sam’s life. A shudder runs through him as Dean begins to move inside him, white hot pressure building almost unbearably as Dean fills him again and again. Sam tries to match Dean’s rhythm, and soon Dean runs his hand through the hot, sticky pool of precome Sam has leaked onto his belly and wraps his long, calloused fingers around Sam’s aching dick. One quick stroke, hard and fast, and the hot, heavy weight of pleasure coiling at the base of Sam’s spine explodes through him. His whole body clenches tight as he cries out and paints Dean’s chest white. 

Underneath him, Dean shudders, hips grinding up into Sam one last time as his orgasm washes over and through him, and each pulse sends aftershocks throbbing through Sam. Sam folds gracelessly against Dean’s chest, heedless of the mess between them or the twinge of abused muscles when Dean slips free. He kisses Dean over and over, tiny teasing kisses on his lips and cheeks and eyes, laughing until they’re both dizzy, until Dean tangles his hand in Sam’s hair and kisses him deep and hard. 

Sam drifts a little after that, sprawled across Dean’s broad chest, Dean’s arms wrapped around him, Dean’s heart beating strong and sure under his ear. 

“Love you, De,” he whispers drowsily, happily, and Dean’s arms tighten around him as he kisses the top of Sam’s head. 

“Love you too, little brother” Dean whispers back, gently stroking Sam’s back. His eyes slip shut, savoring the perfect feeling of Sam in his arms. “Always.


End file.
